The Sandman

163

Joona is driving too fast when he turns left at the roundabout, the front bumper thuds into the banked-up snow, the tyres rumble over the packed ice. He wrestles with the steering wheel as the car slides sideways, then puts his foot down and the car leaves the pavement and carries on along Lindarängsvägen without losing much speed.

The vast grassy expanse of Gärdet is covered with snow, stretching like a white sea up towards Norra Djurgården.

He overtakes a bus on the straight, hits one hundred and sixty kilometres an hour, and flies past yellow-brick blocks of flats. The car slides between the edges of the deep tracks through the snow as he brakes to turn left towards the harbour. Snow and ice are thrown up across the windscreen. Through the tall wire fence surrounding the harbour he can see a long, narrow ferry being loaded with containers in the blurred light from a crane.

A rust-brown goods train is on its way into Frihamnen.

Joona peers through the swirling snow, the murky shadows surrounding the deserted warehouses. He turns sharply into the harbour, bouncing across a traffic-island as slush flies around the car and the tyres spin.

The railway barriers are already starting to close but Joona accelerates across the tracks and the barriers scrape the roof of the car.

He drives on at speed through Frihamnen. There are people leaving the Tallinn ferry terminal, a scant line of black figures vanishing into the night.

She can’t be far away. She stopped the car and got out. Someone rebooked her meeting. Forced her to come out here. Got her to leave the car.

He sounds his horn and people leap out of his way. One woman drops her luggage trolley and Joona drives straight over it.

An articulated lorry is moving slowly down the roll-on, roll-off ramp and onto the ferry to St Petersburg. It leaves great clods of compacted brown snow on the ground behind it.

Joona drives past an empty car park between warehouses five and six and in through the gates of the container terminal.

The area is like a city, with narrow alleys and tall, windowless buildings. He sees something from the corner of his eye and brakes sharply, then reverses with a shriek of tyres.

Disa’s car is standing in the passageway ahead of him. A thin layer of snow has settled on top of it. The driver’s door is open. Joona stops and runs over to it. The engine is still warm. He looks inside, there’s no sign of violence or a struggle.

He breathes ice-cold air into his lungs.

Disa got out of the car and walked in front of it. Snow is filling her tracks, making them soft.

‘No,’ he whispers.

There’s a patch of downtrodden snow ten metres ahead of her car, and a track has been left by something being dragged off to the side a metre or so between the tall containers before it stops.

A necklace of drops of blood is just visible under the powdery, freshly fallen snow.

Beyond that the snow is smooth and untouched.

Joona stops himself calling Disa’s name.

Ice-crystals are falling on the containers, making a tinkling sound. He takes a few steps back and sees five ISO containers hanging in the air twenty metres up. The one at the bottom has white writing on a red background: Hamburg Süd.

He heard Disa say those words just before their conversation was cut off.

Joona starts to run through the passageway towards the crane holding the container. The snow is deep, he slips on a piece of metal, hits his shoulder against a yellow container, but keeps on going.

He emerges onto quay number five and looks round. His heart is beating fast in his chest. A dock worker in a helmet is speaking into a walkie-talkie. Snow is falling through the glare of the floodlight, swirling out over the black water.

A vast crane on rails is loading a container ship bound for Rotterdam.

Joona catches sight of the red container bearing the words Hamburg Süd and starts running.

Hundreds of containers, all different colours, bearing different shipping companies’ names, have already been loaded beyond these latest ones.

Two dock workers are walking quickly along the quayside in their bulky outfits and bright yellow tunics. One of them is pointing up at the lofty bridge of the ship.